


Love Wild and Fair

by hisgraceciel



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe, Historical Romance, Multi, dont like dont read seriously take ur flames elsewhere, fem!Ciel Phantomhive - Freeform, literally this is a basic bodice ripper dont like dont read, lots of smut but w/e i dont care, or im gonna make some smores
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisgraceciel/pseuds/hisgraceciel
Summary: Lady Celia Phantomhive is an heiress in her own right, apart from her brother the viscount of Phantomhive; as such, along with her beauty, she's a sought after catch among the families of the upper nobility. But left and right she rejects men, no matter their rank, wealth or how they look. She is headstrong and a vixen, and insults fall from her lips quicker than petals from a roseUntil......Duke Sebastian Michaelis is an English born man that was given the crown of his maternal uncle's duchy at a young age, and moved away from his cold homeland to learn everything he could at the hands of a man he considered more of a father than the man who was married to his mother. Back on a long overdue visit after the death of his uncle, he was in search of an English born bride since no other girl caught his eye. Then he meets a firebrand who he's constantly intrigued by.When together, it's like fire fighting fire; but when they fall in love, its the scandal of high society when they elope. On the outskirts, however, there is danger; but will they recognize it in time?





	Love Wild and Fair

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is a slight break from my current fanfic, Recovery. I was a little burned out and I started writing this.... and a friend beta'd it and said I should post it! More comments on it are welcome~! I promise a second chapter for Recovery will be out soon, it's going through its editor right now <3 
> 
> Enjoy!

Lady Celia Phantomhive was the talk of the gossip mills this season.

She was blunt, was firm in her character and never simpered. She was a woman that many would call a bluestocking; educated, a good shot, outspoken. The exact opposite of an English rose.

She was the frustration to many mama’s and their sons that season. One was too boorish, another not educated, and lastly she wouldn’t “marry a man who looked far too much like a rat! Disgusting.” 

The Earl of Sefton ended up being pushed from a boat when he tried to force the issue. The Viscount of Molyneux had a red mark on his face for days. She was nicknamed the “Terror of Phantomhive.” 

Her father hid his amusment around others but her and her brother,her mother showed despair; her twin brother, however…... 

“Damn me, Lia, you’ve scared off every suitor this season.” Viscount Ciel laughed at his sister’s antics. She had snubbed the Duke of Yorkshire and his son, considering the Yorkshire heir was looking down her gown, and tried to corner her for a disgusting kiss. “Aiming to become an old maid, eh? Pretty sure Aunt Angelina is willing to train you to become a doctor if you want!”

“Charming, brother dear, you’re simply charming.” Celia’s voice was acidic. She was soaked from that bumbling idiot spilling champagne all over her light pink silk gown. The watered silk was completely ruined,and it ended up soaking her jewelry as well. “Do something useful and grab me a towel.” the girl snapped. At eighteen years old, she was a beauty, with cream and roses skin, luscious blue grey hair and sapphire eyes that could send a chill down a man’s spine. Her personality did not fit her small stature, since she was rather short at barely two inches over five feet with a delicate frame. But, her presence was much larger.

Meyrin, her maid, quickly took the elbow length gloves from her lady’s arms, and hurriedly got her up the stairs. Ciel followed his sister, scooping her up in his arms to whisk her off down to her rooms. 

“Don’t be long, darling!” Elizabeth called after her husband of two months. He laughed at her words, carrying his twin bridal style. 

“Wouldn't want you catching cold now, do we?” he set her down when Meyrin opened the door. He pulled a warmed towel from the rack as Celia took her hair out of a braided chignon. She refused to wear the pigtails or short bobs that had come into fashion. Her hair reached to her waist, and reminded one of silk.

“You're dramatic.” she walked over and brushed some hair from his face lovingly. She showed affection for her sister in law, her brother, and her parents; but beyond that she was like a maiden of ice. 

“You're one of my most treasured people, my sister. For you to catch a fever or somehow develop an auge….” 

She kissed his cheek. “It's just a little champagne.” Celia smiled at him. “Now leave me to dress down, dearest. I think after that commotion I'm allowed to play the invalid.” 

He sighed. “Of course, dearest. I'll be back later.” Ciel stood in the doorway.

“.... You know, I really would enjoy seeing you fall in love and experience the same emotion I do with Lizzie. All I want is for you to be happy.”

Those words echoed in her ears a few hours later when darkness fell over the townhome. She was resting in bed, fresh from the bath (she insisted on taking a second one - champagne smell still lingered to her) and wrapped in a silken nightgown.

“Well, mistress, seems like you're settled for the night, d'you need anything more?” her maid inquired. Celia waved her off.

“I'm exhausted and I need to sleep. I'll survive the night on my own, Mey. Wake me up at seven.” The curtains were drawn, all the light sources but for the fireplace put out. Celia curled her body up under the cotton covers, sighing.

They all wanted her to marry. It was a silly business in her mind; a woman was too controlled in marriage. Why couldn't she be free to pursue her own interests? Why couldn't she explore business opportunities without a beastly husband at her side?

At times, Celia felt like she was born into the wrong era; she knew of a time deep in England's past when women were not required to have a husband. They could marry but if the man displeased the woman, she had every right to divorce. 

Or maybe she was meant to be born sometime in the future, when women had those rights again. She sighed before falling deep into slumber.

The next morning dawned bright and cheerful, Celia's twin at her door insisting on a ride through the countryside surrounding London. Perhaps a picnic would be in order; she knew Lizzie's lovestruck older brother would be there, perhaps to try and charm Celia into the idea of an engagement.

She grumbled. Edward was a dear, this much was true, but she considered him the same as her twin. He was an older brother figure. Nothing more.

“M'lady, the dove grey riding gown?” her maid asked.

Celia was snapped out of her reverie. “Yes, of course. I miss being in the county, I could wear riding pants and no one would care….”

“Men never like to see a woman with such a headstrong attitude, dear.” Rachel Phantomhive was a beauty even at her age; some would assume she was the younger woman's sister, not her mother.

“Men can go to the devil.” Celia muttered. “A cow fair! That's what the Season is. And I'm the prize heifer.” 

“Celia Phillipa Rose Phantomhive!” her mother looked shocked. “I never taught you to speak like that!”

“Don’t be so harsh, Rachel! She's just outspoken. Gives all those dandies a run for their money, I bet! If I had a daughter, I would want her to be just like our darling Lia here.” Angelina, given the charming nickname “Madame Red”, winked at her niece, which made the younger woman giggle, much to her mother's exasperation.

“Angelina, really! How is she supposed to gain a husband with a tongue like vinegar?” 

“Find a man that likes spice, not sweet honey. Quite frankly, all the boys this season - yes, boys - are nothing like their fathers. Why, the previous Earl of Sefton was quite the rake in his youth, and even as an old man quite the charmer. If the current was more like his father he would have stood a better chance. Vincent loves you for your sweetness, but Celia is far too much like him so they argue, even if she is his beloved daughter.”

During this conversation, Celia had gone behind a privacy screen to get dressed. The dove grey gown was made of cotton, and under it was a brassiere - for Celia was far too lithe for a corset. It was a new invention, something that her mother despaired over, but since no one could see under the gown, it didn't matter. The gown gave no view to the chest since it started at the base of her collarbone, the sleeves full and tight at the wrists. Her skirt barely brushed her ankles, revealing heeled riding shoes. Meyrin braided her hair into a single, thick braid that was tied off with a stark white silk ribbon.

“Have fun! Don't be too harsh on Edward now.” Angelina grinned, Celia waved at her as she rushed down the stairs to her brother, dressed in the same color as her, dove grey.

Anytime she wore a neutral color, Ciel matched his younger twin; but if it was any shade of pink like her mother insisted, he wore black or white. He was mirthful, since he knew his sister hated light colors. 

“You're gorgeous today, pigeon.” he complimented. Though identical when younger, and they looked similar now, Ciel looked just like their father; verses Celia who had a heart shaped face, full lips, their mother's eye shape and a delicate nose. Over all, she reminded one of a porcelain doll so popular with little girls. But those sapphire eyes could grow dark, lips curled into a smirk and that's when one knew she was Vincent Phantomhive’s daughter in more ways than one. 

“Sister!” Lizzie was dressed in spring green, which complimented her eyes and complexion. “You're simply beautiful!” there was a note of hopefulness in her voice. “Are you sure…?”

“I love your brother too much as my own brother that I simply can't view him like that.” she patted Lizzie's hand. Lizzie was so sweet one couldn't hate her. Though Celia knew she was a hellcat when it came to fencing - she hid that part of her from Ciel. 

“Let's go enjoy this spring day, shall we?” 

The sun was out when they started riding. Sitting side saddle had it's advantages; Celia got to chat with Lizzie at a good pace, her hoydenish laughter filling the air, wafting over the chatter of other young people and couples out on the late May morning. 

“Who is that girl on the grey stallion?” came an amused voice from the edge of the glade. Sitting on his own horse, he viewed the young lady with apparent interest, noting her beauty and brilliant smile.

“Oh, her? She's the only daughter of the Earl of Phantomhive. She's been nicknamed ‘Terror of Phantomhive’.” Ronald Knox laughed. “You'll end up in a lake if you take her boating or in the dust if you fancy a ride with her, Sebastian!”

Sebastian Michaelis, Duke of Boscoso, was the younger son of an Italian mother and her English husband; whose brother had no heir. As a result, they were surprised when a letter came from him stating he made her younger son his sole heir on the condition that he discard his last name for his maternal family's, and come live with him to learn how to rule the duchy he was given.

He did so without ceremony. There was nothing for a second son but the army, the navy or a vicarship; he far prefered spending his time in the small duchy he was given, which was in between France and Italy. The capital was on the sea, so when Sebastian arrived, he learned the basics of being a sailor, for what Duke of Boscoso could call himself such if he couldn't jump in the sea and navigate? He learned all sorts of things, his education lacking due to his father not giving his younger son much attention. His older son was his image, his younger looked far too much like his uncle. Sebastian considered his uncle, who shared his name, his paternal figure and was incredibly sad when he passed on.

As a result, when he came back to visit, he was different than the beaten down youth he used to be; a sure, direct and roguish man replaced him. His mother was surprised, his father not so pleased. This wasn't a weak younger son he could mold and use to get a window to Europe. 

“Strong women are far more interesting than the weak, simpering girls the Season has showed me. The only thing they see is my dukedom and my wealth.” his amber eyes focused on the young woman. She was absolutely beautiful. Though, knowing her headstrong personality, would she take to being pursued?

He would have to find out. “Ronald, do me a favor…..”

“Her aunt, the Marchioness of Midford, is giving a small party for the newlyweds tomorrow night. They recently came back from a honeymoon in France. Invites might be hard to come by - but the interest you're displaying is the first I've seen in a while, ‘Bastian! I'll try my hardest.” 

He grinned at his best friend. “Thanks, mate.” Sebastian watched as the girl rode off, and the most incredible thing happened.

She looked back. A brief moment of eye contact, and he grinned at her. Her face turned bright red for some reason, and she turned her head. Tomorrow night couldn't come fast enough - she was already a fever in his blood.

“Cee, what's wrong?” Lizzie asked. Cee was her special nickname. 

“I felt like someone was burning a hole into my back and I saw a gentleman staring at me….” she was obviously distressed. Her heart had done something it never had: it fluttered, and now she could somewhat understand the women around her talked about.

“Oh, Celia, that's-” Lizzie started.

“The Duke of Boscoso. He was English born but his uncle back in Italy made him his heir. He came back after the man died to look for an English born bride.” Ciel was grinning. “You look flustered, sister.”

“Go to the devil!” she hissed at him, wishing she wasn't in a damned skirt so she could gallop away from everything. She couldn't see much of the man anymore, just his long shadow and burning eyes. 

Celia shivered again.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………...

 

The next night fell like a storm. It seemed like the day sped by, and she didn’t escape her mother’s attentions - it felt like she was drowned in lavender (she disliked the scent but her mother said anything else was not appropriate for an unmarried maid) and trussed up like a Christmas goose in baby pink silk. Ugh. 

“This isn’t my color at all.” she looked at her too pale skin basically melting into the light colored silk and realized it wasn’t striking on her. She prefered deep, clear colors but they were considered “bold” and she wasn’t allowed to - blah blah blah. 

“When you’re married and then a widow like me is the only time society leaves you alone, sweetheart, I am sorry.” Angelina kissed her niece's forehead. Normally Rachel was level headed and listened to her daughter’s pleas, but she was more aggressive than usual this year. It was Celia’s second Season and she still hadn’t found a husband, so for her it was cause for concern. In her own way she was worried for her daughter’s wellbeing.

Ciel and Lizzie had been engaged from a young age; Celia was at a point but the boy died from cholera when she was twelve and there had never been a replacement, since she slithered her way out of any courtships.

Rachel was determined. Vincent and Ciel seemed rather entertained by Celia’s behavior; Angelina knew Vincent was sore to separate himself from his daughter, same for her brother. She smiled softly. Angelina always had a soft spot for this niece. She could fence words better than any man, and if she had been born a boy would have made a damn good lawyer, businessman or what have you - Angelina became a doctor through her own stubbornness, but also the fact that her husband let her. The woman sighed. 

Angelina hoped Celia would find a forward thinking man that loved her like she had found. He even understood when she explained that her heart was given to another - but that was another story for another time.

“Look at you, pinker than a newborn babe.” Ciel had popped his head into the room with a grin, dodging the pillow thrown his way, laughing as he ran down the hall away from his sister who came out of the room with the fury of the seven devils themselves.

“You suffering, overblown, piece of - you are lucky I would not ruin this party for anything, spoiled rotten brat!” armed with another pillow, she hurled it down the hall and hit him square on the back, laughing triumphantly when he was bowled over. He stood at the same height as their father, and looked just like him; seeing him on the floor, arms flailing, was the most entertaining thing that had happened that day. 

“I am not saving you from any suitors today, Lia! You’re on your own!” he got up, straightened his suit out, and went down the hall to his room all huffy. 

Celia heard a soft giggle from Lizzie, and she smiled softly at her sister-in-law. “You saw all that?” 

“I did, but I admit sometimes he needs a dressing down.” she reached over and smoothed over Celia’s hair, which tonight was left long and down to her waist, falling in ringlets and only held back by a ribbon. 

“You’re so adorable tonight, dearest. I know you dislike pink but the gown looks nice, at the least.” 

Those words lingered with her the entire time during the carriage ride over, when her aunt and uncle greeted them and when the party officially started. Ciel made good on his promise in not being her escort or saving her from the attentions of men that night; instead he played the overly in love husband and was constantly at his bride’s side.

Celia had finally escaped her gaggle of male suitors, finding an alcove where she could sip some lemonade in peace on her own.

She could deflect men by hiding behind her uncle or her father, but even then they got whisked away in an attempt to -

“Excuse me, Lady Celia?” a soft, cultured voice caught her attention, setting her heart a flutter. Oh no. Not this feeling again…..

“It seems like I finally caught you in a moment where you’re not surrounded by men or attached to your family members.” It was behind her, and part of her was far, far too scared to turn around. But it wasn’t the fear of the unknown.

It was the fear of the feelings she felt inside her heart, and she had barely whispered a word.

Turning, her breath caught in her throat, feeling much like the fawn caught by a hunter; what was this feeling, unknown and causing turmoil within the core of her being?

The man before her smiled, amber eyes soft. “I won’t eat you, I promise.” where the only words he murmured before he caught her gloved hand in his own and kissed the silk covering her skin; she shivered and he hadn’t even touched her.

“Ah, I never introduced myself…..” every time he talked it seemed like something was melting inside of her.

“My name is Sebastian, I am the Duke of Boscoso.”


End file.
